


Sister Mine

by littleramblings



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Growing Up Together, M/M, Sibling Bonding, Starfleet Academy, Vulcan Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 05:06:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12499416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleramblings/pseuds/littleramblings
Summary: Spock was a young boy when Michael graduated at the top of her class, receiving the Vulcan Scientific Legion of Honor, and knew full well that she was not his sister. However, logic dictates that spending any extent of time with another individual was likely to lead to familiarity and a degree of fondness, so he allowed himself to feel pride for her accomplishments and ignored the niggling feeling that he must do equally as well one day, if not better. It wasn't until the night of her graduation, when she excused herself early and retired for the night, that Spock learned of her rejection from the Vulcan Expeditionary Group.Or, 5 glimpses into Spock and Michael's relationship as siblings, +1 time he told someone about her.





	Sister Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to merge the canon from both Discovery and 2009+ films. I really want to learn more about their dynamic.

**V.**

 

Spock was a young boy when Michael graduated at the top of her class, receiving the Vulcan Scientific Legion of Honor, and knew full well that she was not his sister. However, logic dictates that spending any extent of time with another individual was likely to lead to familiarity and a degree of fondness, so he allowed himself to feel pride for her accomplishments and ignored the niggling feeling that he must do equally as well one day, if not better. It wasn't until the night of her graduation, when she excused herself early and retired for the night, that Spock learned of her rejection from the Vulcan Expeditionary Group.

 

 

Amanda and Sarek were still in the kitchen, whispering over mugs of a warm beverage Spock had yet to try, and although he reasoned that he was too young to be privy to whatever they wished to keep secret from him, a burn of curiosity curled in his stomach. It was not a human emotion – curiosity is what drives all species to explore the blackness of space, yet Spock found the argument to be lacking. Still, he curled one small hand around the door frame and listened as closely as he could, eyes growing heavy with the late hour.

 

 

“It will do her well to serve with other humans; understanding of one half of her nature can only be beneficial to understanding her limits,”

 

 

“But there should be no limits!” Amanda hissed, brow creasing. “If she were anything but human, they would have accepted her without question,”

 

 

“Perhaps not if she were Orion,” Sarek mused, but Amanda didn't seem to acknowledge him.

 

 

“The Federation is good, she will excel anywhere, but it's the principle of the matter. It's racism, and surely _that_ is illogical,”

 

 

Spock wanted to smile at his mother's argument, for they were words he had spoke himself already too frequently. Instead he backed away, letting his hands drop to his sides as he made his way towards the stairs. Spock was still young, but he learned early on that Vulcans, despite their will to be progressive, were still a long way from being so.

 

 

 

-*-

 

 

 

**IV.**

 

Spock didn't hear from Michael when he chose the Starfleet Academy over the Vulcan Science Academy, mainly because he didn't tell her. She had risen to the rank of First Officer on board the U.S.S Shenzhou, sounded content in their last correspondence (which, for Michael, meant she was _happy_ ,) and Spock would not be the barer of bad news. He was, perhaps, the biggest disappointment to the house of S'chn T'gai. Still, when he arrived in San Francisco, when he found his room (a single, close to campus), there was already a memo waiting for him on his academy issued padd.

 

_'Which way you ought to go depends on where you want to get to'_

_You must do what is right for you._

_Live long and Proper. Michael._

 

 

He didn't hear from Sarek, though Amanda did send a fruit basket and a copy of _Alice in Wonderland,_ which Spock keeps in his bedside draw and certainly did not read whenever he felt the slightest doubt towards the decision he had made.

 

 

-*-

 

 

**III.**

 

Extracurriculars were something Spock had difficulty with; he joined the chess club because he enjoyed the game, but those who could offer a real challenge were few and far between. He attended primary lectures for the engineering division alongside those for the sciences, kept his mind stimulated and challenged himself to excel at every task he undertook. Despite joining Starfleet to prevent further slander towards his human heritage, he found himself feeling more and more Vulcan as the days wore on.

 

 

He was in the library when he heard of the attack against Sarek, from the mouths of Andorians nonetheless. Vulcan extremists, so brainwashed they could no longer see the hypocrisy in their twisted logic, wanting to prove the experiment that was the Federation a failure. The stylus he was using cracked under his grip as he brought up the news page on his own padd, eyes scanning quickly over the standard English text.

 

 

He was on the _Discovery_. He was with Michael, recovering slowly but surely, and the Vulcan council refused to comment on the extremists save to say that they were investigating the case. There had been an attack on Sarek's life, and Spock was only now finding out. From _Andorians_. Worse, Spock thought, but pushed the thought away as soon as it crossed his mind: from _The Galactic Archive._

 

 

Spock didn't send Sarek well-wishes, nor did he type three drafts of a memo, each with thoughts less organised than the last, before discarding them altogether. The third didn't count, he reasoned, as he barely typed one sentence before giving up. Instead, he drew up a note for Michael, informal in its approach and admittedly rushed, but Spock saw no need for eloquence when it came to his sister.

 

 

_At what point would you think it necessary to inform me of our father's condition?_

 

 

 

-*-

 

 

_Spock,_

_He's fine, stubborn as usual, but his health is improving. I'll keep you updated from now on._

_Michael._

 

 

_-*-_

 

 

**II.**

 

Cadet Spock graduated, not long after becoming Commander Spock; Amanda and Sarek were both there but Michael's shore leave wasn't for another month, and so Spock allowed his mother to fuss, capturing the day in numerous holopics. He wondered if they'd soon be confined to a draw, or displayed atop the fireplace alongside Sarek's own, and Michael's.

 

 

“I'm so pleased for you,” Amanda beamed, hands hovering over Spock's cheeks as she moved to cup his face. “You and Michael both serving on starships, and the _Enterprise_ , to boot. You've done so well,”

 

 

“Despite my disadvantage?” Spock asked privately, because sarcasm was not an emotion and it had been years, now, since he had heard those words from the Vulcan elders. Still, they were not without cause.

 

 

Amanda quirked an eyebrow, levelling Spock with a look he hoped to one day imitate. “Behave,”

 

 

Sarek cleared his throat, hands folded behind his back, at perfect parade rest.

 

 

“It seems that refusing your place with the Vulcan Science Academy was in your best interest,” he said, eyes scanning the crowds of excited graduates and pleased parents. “I hope to see you progress as well as you would have under their teachings,”

 

 

Finally his gaze fell back onto Spock, who braced himself accordingly.

 

 

“I endeavour to succeed, father,”

 

 

“Good,”

 

 

“Boys,” Amanda warned, linking one arm through Sarek's and placing a hand on Spock's back, “This is a day for celebration, the universe can wait until tomorrow,”

 

 

“There is a theory of intrinsic expansion surrounding the universe; the scale of space itself changes, and therefore waits for no man. Vulcan, or not,”

 

 

Amanda gasped, spinning on the spot, mouth stretching into a wide smile, “ _Michael,_ ”

 

 

“Amanda,” Michael said fondly, allowing the tight embrace which followed. There was, after all, very little a child could do when their mother grew sentimental. “I couldn't miss Spock's big day, now, could I?”

 

 

Spock, visibly stoic as his father, felt warmth curl in his stomach. Michael's warm gaze turned to him, though she was as poised as ever. She stood with with a confidence clearly earned from hard lessons, from her time abroad both the Shenzhou and Discovery, from a war with the Klingons which would probably never see an end in her human lifetime.

 

 

“I am pleased to see that you're well, Michael,” Spock said, inclining his head politely.

 

 

“As am I,” Michael responded, reaching out to squeeze Spock's uniform clad forearm. The fabric was enough to prevent any mental transference, but Spock didn't need to use a mind meld to sense what she was feeling. Happiness, pride, contentedness. The emotion shone in her eyes, the only tell to her otherwise Vulcan-perfect stance.

 

 

“Michael,” Sarek spoke, giving nothing away.

 

 

“Sarek,” Michael said, voice equally as measured.

 

 

Something passed between them, understanding, a memory or thought that Spock nor Amanda were aware of. Still, it wasn't long before Michael's line of sight returned to Spock's, less guarded than before.

 

 

“Shall we?”

 

 

 

“Indeed,” Spock nodded, falling into step with his sister.

 

 

Sarek and Amanda followed, fingertips brushing as they spoke in silence. Michael had stories to tell, of the infinity that was space, of how there was always something in the blackness which surrounded them. Spock listened with vigour, drinking in the words. They were both Vulcan, in a way. Both products of their environment, a study in xeno-cohabitation, and family. Above all, they were family.

 

 

-*-

 

 

**I.**

 

 

The Narada incident becomes galactic wide news within hours of the crew of the Enterprise docking at the nearest Starfleet port. Life, as it always does, finds a way. The Vulcan elders and those who survived, scattered amongst worlds, came together to find New Vulcan. Sarek and Ambassador Spock, both rife with grief, go with them.

 

 

 _First and best destiny_.

 

 

The words echo in Spock's mind, alone in the void of his mind. He still felt nothing, the chasm which used to be the psychic hive of his people, gone. Not that he had known it then; as private as Vulcans were known to be, it wasn't until great tragedy that Spock realised they were connected far more intrinsically than first thought.

 

 

Alone. His mind, his body, sat in the too large rooms given to someone of his command. Jim was next door, he knew, but there was silence beyond the wall, too. Too much silence.

 

 

Spock was addressing the computer before his consciousness caught up with him. He was connected to Michael within seconds, another perk of commanding a star ship being access to the fastest connection, but the quality with which he saw her in did nothing to help rebuild his shields. His guard was down, splintered and fragile, and Michael was just as bad.

 

 

“ _Spock,_ ” she breathed, eyes searching his face – for what, Spock did not know, but he saw it in her eyes before he was aware of it himself.

 

 

His face crumpled, hands gripping his knees as he allowed his grief to finally, _finally_ consume him.

 

 

“I could not save her,” he said, voice thick. “I was right there, I reached for her hand,”

 

 

“You tried,” Michael said quietly, tears falling silently onto her cheeks. “Spock, you tried,”

 

 

“I did not try hard enough,”

 

 

Michael bit her lip, holding in the sobs that shook her shoulders. She didn't know if holding Spock's gaze would break her resolve, but found it impossible to look away. Spock had no tears to cry, felt his eyes sting with the human emotion to let it out, but found that even now, he was more Vulcan than he had the right to be.

 

 

“Let go,” Michael said, firmer than she felt. “Spock, you need to. Let it out,”

 

 

Spock shook his head, eyes dropping to his hands. His resolve, fragile as it was, was all he had.

 

 

“ _Spock,_ ”

 

 

He met her gaze once more, hands shaking. Michael nodded, giving permission for something neither was certain about. Spock cried out, finding his pain in his voice. Michael cried and Spock cried out, her hologram so close, as close as Amanda had been, and Spock wanted nothing more than to touch, to let her ground him. To reach would be illogical, some part of him knew. She was light-years away, somewhere on the edge of Federation space, doing her part to keep this world of theirs in a sense of stability, no matter how foreign the concept sounded to him now.

 

She was so far, but for that moment, as close as they both needed to be.

 

 

“You tried,” she whispered, fingers reaching towards the image of him in her own quarters.

 

 

Perhaps Starfleet, perhaps _Jim_ , was a destiny that he could not escape; it was grand and beautiful in a way Spock could not see in that moment, but his duty – his first and best duty – was to his family.

 

 

-*-

 

 

 

 

**\+ I.**

 

 **  
  
** The Enterprise was beautiful; from every tube, wire, and sheet of metal that made her who she was, to the loving hands that steered her, the lust for adventure which commanded her, the crew which turned her from a ship to a home. That night Spock lay in Jim's quarterns, in Jim's bed, his room nothing like Spock imagined (back when imagination was the only privilege he allowed himself, the privilege of imagining that which he certainly shouldn't; that which made no sense to imagine).

 

 

The simple pleasures of naked flesh against flesh created a gentle atmosphere in the room, one which floated around them, coating each object in a layer of hazy contentment. Spock's gaze came to rest on the telescope by the window, his heart giving a faint pang in his side. Amanda had had one very similar, had shown Spock and Michael the stars before they could search for them themselves. She encouraged them in the best and only way she could: by letting them believe.

 

 

“What are you thinking?” Jim asked sleepily, fingers tracing an idle pattern across Spock's broad chest. “I can feel it. You're not often nostalgic,”

 

 

“Not often,” Spock agreed, dropping his gaze down to Jim's face. He was visibly sleepy, having been thoroughly fucked out after pulling a double shift on very little sleep, due to an away mission gone wrong several standard nights previously. Still, Spock could feel Jim's presence in the back of his mind, content to just be, no prodding. Yet.

 

 

“I was thinking of my mother,” Spock spoke softly, eyes returning to the window across from the bed. “Of how she used to show me the stars. Michael, too,”

 

 

“Michael?” Jim yawned, rubbing his cheek against Spock's side. The scratch of his stubble wasn't uncomfortable, but it was a prominent sensation and Spock allowed himself to be distracted by it momentarily.

 

 

“My sister,” Spock said, allowing himself a moment to wonder how it was that Jim did not know this. “Michael Burnham,”

 

 

Spock could feel Jim grinning, both in his mind and his lips against his skin. “The mutineer?”

 

 

“Pardoned mutineer,” Spock corrected, shifting to catch Jim's gaze. “She did not start the war,”

 

 

“I know,” Jim nodded, fingers coming to a stop on Spock's sternum. “Still, that's _brilliant,_ ”

 

 

“She is indeed worthy of such a description,” Spock began, ears green, “yet may I question how you came to such a conclusion?”

 

 

Jim shrugged against him, a light kiss placed against Spock's ribs before Jim pulled himself up, laying by Spock atop the pillows.

 

 

“Any woman to influence you must be formidable,”

 

 

“And what makes you think she had any influence over me?” Spock asked, curious.

 

 

Jim grinned, shoving his pillow into a more comfortable shape.

 

 

“ _Jim,_ ” Spock said, bordering on the tone which Jim had dubbed his 'if you don't finish what you've started now, I'm going to be insufferable about it for days,' voice.

 

 

Jim snorted, flopping onto his side. Reaching out, he brushed Spock's hair from his face, fingers curling around the tip of an ear. “Because,” he began quietly, eyes flickering between Spock's own. “You called her your sister. I know a little something about filling the shoes of someone else,”

 

 

“We make quite the pair,” Spock spoke, after a moment of silence.

 

 

“We do,” Jim smiled, eyes falling shut momentarily. “The best,”

 

 

Spock's family was vast; _was._ There were once members he was never able to speak to, Vulcans and humans alike he was bound to only by blood, not my sentiment. Spock had Amanda, Michael, _Sarek_ , despite their differences.

 

 

He threaded his fingers through Jim's, holding tight.

 

 

He would not let go of his family again.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ain't nobody got time to try and understand timelines unless it's an easy google search away. Also if anybody's wondering, the acknowledgement between Michael and Sarek at Spock's graduation relates to the fact that Sarek chose Spock to study with the Vulcan group, not Michael. Despite this, as we all know, Spock ended up with Starfleet.


End file.
